Chapter 8
Ray loved Margaret Thatcher. Not in the way Benny loved her, truth was he couldn't stand the woman, her superior attitude, the way she belittled Fraser, the way she ignored him. Oh, Ray hated people like that. But regardless, he loved Meg Thatcher.
He loved the fact that he could respect her. He knew that no matter what she wouldn't compromise and he knew that she had a very defined sense of right and wrong and a very clear vision of who she was. He had to respect those things. And he had to respect that of all the women he knew, she was the most stable. Of course that meant she was a bitch all the time, never lapsing into sweetness. But at least with her, you knew what you were getting, one hundred percent, all the time.
But most of all, he loved her because she wasn't going to hurt Fraser. He knew that his Mountie Friend had a thing for his Mountie boss. Benny could hide his emotions form himself, but they were clear to Ray. And Ray was getting this sick feeling that she was reciprocating some of those feelings. He loved that Meg wasn't going to lead Benny on. She wasn't going to break his heart, at least not intentionally. She wasn't going to frame him for her crimes, and she wasn't going to try and kill him. All reasons to love Meg Thatcher.
Yes, she was mean, cruel even, at times. But a lot of that came with the title and the career and having to fight hard in a man's world. Ray could see that kind of attitude in a lot of the professional women he knew, Easter Pearson, McKenzie King, and especially Louis St.Lauren. And he knew that Fraser wouldn't really get close to a person unless they were willing to treat him like dirt. He was friendly to everyone, and tons of people thought of him as their friend. But until you've let Benton Fraser know that you don't think he's anything special, he's not going to trust you, to let you in.
Ray didn't know why that was. He thought it might have something to do with the fact that Fraser didn't really like being the worlds nicest human, because that made him different. He wanted to be normal, so naturally he was attracted to those who weren't going to treat him like the saint he was, but rather like a mere mortal with faults and problems. Or maybe he was just incredibly cautious in trusting people. Really trusting people, trusting them not with flimsy things like his life and his career, because those could be lost on a whim. But with things like who he was, because when you get down to it, that's all any of us have. Maybe he only trusted those people who were able and willing to see both the good and the bad and were willing to love both parts regardless.
In any event, Fraser trusted her, and he loved her. And in some queer way, Ray loved her. And he wasn't going to let anything happen to her, if for no other reason, then for Benny's sake.
Garret hadn't been able to add anything, beyond recognition of her family. He had come just in case they hadn't figured out who it was, he wanted to give them every advantage that he could. His thoughtfulness was rewarded with a coffee and a sandwich. He left a little fuller, but no more assured. Her pain was still with him, her fear and her hope still fought in his breast. A sandwich didn't fix that.
Sitting at the table in the lunchroom, Fraser was drawing up a chart of where Meg had been last night, and when.
"Elly said that she left the hotel no more than fifteen minutes after I did."
"You really interrogated that little kid, didn't you?"
"So we'll say she left the hotel around six twenty." He jotted that down on the top of a yellow legal pad. "Then, again according to Elly, she went by the consulate."
"Travel time?"
"Approximately twenty minutes."
"Six forty."
"Which would concur with Mr. Mustaffie's claim that she called him just before seven."
"Is there anyone you didn't ask?"
"After that, Elly said they came here."
"Travel time ten minutes."
"The desk sergeant's log places her here at seven-oh-eight. It has her leaving here at seven-twenty-six."
"They must have wrung her through the ringer."
"By this time Elly was hungry, they stopped at a fast food restaurant."
"About thirty minutes?"
"Possibly. She called Mr. Mustaffie again around seven-forty-five, and she also called my office at the consulate at seven-fifty-three."
"Ok, so they eat, then what?"
"Then she remembers the dinner."
"Great, after diner."
"They drive over."
"Anything from twenty five minutes to half an hour, depending."
"Closer to half an hour. I had another call at the consult at eight-thirty-five, and accordingly Mr. Mustaffe received a call. At this point he asked her not to call again."
"Tenacity has its draw backs."
"And then Elly said she saw a nice old lady."
"That would be my mother."
"You're mother?"
"Yha, she stopped by a little after nine."
"She went to you're house!" Fraser was shocked, he totally forgot about his meticulous notes.
"Well, where else do you think would I see her?"
"Certainly not at your house."
"She was all wound up, had looked everywhere for you. She said she wanted to return Dief."
"But you think it was more of that."
"She could have dropped the wolf off at you're apartment, or left him at the consulate if that was all she was worried about. Why'd you leave her? I thought that . . ."
"Her parents made it abundantly clear that my presence was less than welcome."
"So you left Dief behind to protect her?"
"Not intentionally."
"I would say it was a good thing that you did."
Fraser took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. In so doing he remembered his list. "How long did she stay at you're house?"
"I don't know, half hour maybe. Maybe less."
"We'll say she left around nine thirty, is that safe?"
"Probably."
"Elaine!" Fraser called out of the blue. Ray turned around to see the pretty civilian aid, who had clearly just been walking by but was now frozen in the doorway.
"Yes?"
Fraser left the table and walked over to her. He pulled a small slip of white paper out of his pocket and handed it too her. "Now, I don't have a prescription, but, do you think you could get me some of this drug?"
Elaine looked up at Fraser, than down at the paper nervously. "I don't know. Hospitals are pretty up tight about this kind of things."
"It's most importunate."
Again Elaine looked at Fraser uncertainly. Finally his honest gaze won out. She took the piece of paper. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you kindly, Elaine."
"Oh and Ray," Elaine said, pausing as she was about to leave. "The Lieutenant was wondering if you were going to stay in the lunch room all day or actually do any work."
"Ah, you can tell him that I am working. Missing person."
Elaine glanced over her shoulder, "I think you can tell him yourself." She scooted away, which left the door way wide open for Harrding Welsh.
Both Ray and Fraser snapped to attention. "Ah," Welsh said, as he walked past them towards the Coffee. "This I like, this is good. Standing at attention while I poor my coffee."
Fraser looked at Ray uncertainly. He could never quite tell when the Lieutenant was serious or joking.
"This however, does not explain why you've spent the first hour of you're day here at work in the lunch room talking to you're friend here instead of at you're desk working."
"I am working sir, Missing persons."
"Funny, I don't remember assigning you a missing persons case." Welsh started out the door. Ray and Benny followed, knowing that the conversation was far from over.
"Yes well, this just, ah, came up. But I think you'll agree that it deserves my full attention."
"Oh, really, you think I'll agree." Welsh's voice made it clear that he didn't agree with the detective. They reached the Lieutenant's office and Ray and Fraser followed him in. Fraser shut the door before he was asked to. "Now why wasn't I informed about this, oh so important, case right away?"
"If you'll allow me Left-tenet." Fraser said, glancing first at Welsh, than at Ray.
"Go ahead." Welsh said, leaning back and getting ready for a long monologue.
"You see, there is a certain sense of urgency about this case. We were anticipating it, and accordingly trying to prevent the actual abduction . . ."
"So this was a kidnapping?"
"Oh, certainly." Fraser said quickly. "But upon discovering Elly Thatcher in my bed this morning, and accordingly deducing that her aunt had been accosted. We realized that we had failed in our prevention techniques. Naturally, we started working on the case as soon as we could. I have already taken Elly's statement, and with that information, as well as information from detective Vecchio and other sources we have been able to sketch out a rough itinerary of the victim's actions the previous night, there by concluding that she was kidnapped between the hours of nine-thirty p.m. and four a.m." He leaned forward put the itinerary on the Lieutenants desk. "So, clearly, progress has been made." Welsh picked it up and glanced at it without actually reading anything.
"This is very good," Welsh said, "Very thorough. I'm just left with one question. Who was kidnapped?"
"Inspector Meg Thatcher, Sir." Ray answered before Benny had to.
"Isn't that . . ."
"Yes sir, it is."
"Ah," Welsh said, suddenly understanding. "Because this is a personal thing I'm going to over look this breach in procedure. But, because this is an international thing, and a kidnapping, I'm going to have to call the feds."
"No." Ray said angrily. "You know them. They'll send Fords and Deeter and they'll be stupid. They'll kick us of the case and she'll end up dead." Ray didn't see Fraser suddenly blanch.
Welsh did. "That is why I advise you to find her before the boy's from Washington get here," the told them seriously.
***
Meg was thirsty. That sensation overpowered every other discomfort. The hunger, the cold, the numbness, the cramps, the headaches, they were secondary to the thirst. She tried to get the man's attention, to make enough noise to get him to look at her. But then she realized that he probably knew her situation better than she did. He must have known that she would get thirsty and hungry, he must not have cared. That was disconcerting.
Around midday, he stopped. At this point Meg pushed herself into a slightly more upright position. She felt dizzy for a second but it passed. He was walking towards her and his eyes frightened her. There was something unnatural about them, as if they were detached from his body. Meg had never subscribed to the poet's notion that the eyes were the windows to the sole. She admitted that a lot could be learned from them, but that had more to do with subconscious behaviors than a person's sole. But still, the eyes had always been connected to the body, they had always seemed to mach the person they went with. These eyes didn't. Meg couldn't have explained it at her best, and tied under a cedar tree, overcome by thirst, she was not at her best. The only thing she could compare it to were pictures she had seen of mass-murders in text books and in the news. People with out conscience, remorse, or guilt. Meg suddenly felt ten degrees colder.
She couldn't really move. Her hands were numb, but when she tried to scoot away from her kidnapper, the ropes tightened and pain shot up her arms. Her eyes watered. She didn't bother to make any sound, that hurt to much. Unfortunately her position didn't give her any leverage to fight back, or defend herself. There was no real leverage to kick, she couldn't bite, and she had never learned the useful art of head butting. So when he put his huge hand in her hair and took out the hunting knife, all Meg could do was pray. And pray she did.
He was humming to himself a happy little tune, totally unaware that what he was doing was pure evil. Meg watched, trying very hard not to tense up, as the man took the hunting knife, and instead of going towards her throat, he reached up towards her hairline. For as split second she was sure that he was going to scalp her. She wasn't even entirely sure of what that initialed but she knew that it would be very painful. He smiled down at her as, with the knife in his hand, he pulled a lock of her hair apart form the rest of it and, with a flip of the wrist, he cut it off. He chuckled to himself softly, apparently thinking her hair was some grand joke that she just wasn't going to get, then he turned, as if he were going to leave. But then he thought better of it and returned his attentions to her.
Licking his lips he took his hunting knife and carefully eased it into the shoulder of her sweater. Somehow, with the huge serrated knife he managed to pull one cotton thread out of her sweater. He cut it off neatly and tied it around the lock he had stolen. Then humming merrily to himself he got up and walked away. When he reached the ten-meter radius he was very careful, but once he safely passed that he walked further and further into the woods, until Meg couldn't see him any longer.
To Be Continued. . .